New Year’s Eve/Day saw me not in the church or the club but home. Why? I had chicken pox and so was in quarantine. As my mother was out of the country and my father lives in another state, I was alone and deeply lonely. This however changed when some Jehovah Witnesses I had befriended took it upon themselves to be my caregivers. (Unsponsored: Please be nice to JW’s. They have feelings too). After I was no longer contagious but still alone, two friends decided to come keep me company. I’m grateful for this because the next bit of life was harrrd. Classes began for the new session and the very first week I had 4 assignments. I couldn’t laugh.
When my mum returned, I moved into the hostel, where I was alone again for almost a month before my roommates resumed. That’s when the real wahala started. I gradually got more and more overwhelmed with school and even more depressed as I had no one present to talk to. I’m not exactly the most sociable person so I didn’t interact much with my coursemates. Things came to a head on Valentine’s Day when my backpack was stolen with my phone and laptop inside and my mum, in anger, dressed me down in front of my entire faculty. My laptop had over 5,000 books guys 😭. I was so upset I didn’t know when I picked up a broken key and tried to cut myself.
When she found out, my mother was so alarmed that she took me to the hospital the very next clinic day where it was discovered that I’d been having suicidal ideation. I didn’t realize because it wasn’t straightforward “I want to die” thoughts but rather “What will happen if I do this and die?” or “What if this happens to me and I die?” thoughts. Consequently, I spent most of March in the Psych Ward at Lagos University Teaching Hospital.
It wasn’t all bad as there were some fun parts. Fun because I met some very interesting people, some of whom I’m still in touch with. I was sad though as I didn’t get to celebrate my 22nd birthday the way I had been planning to. The medical staff was competent and I basically spent all the time cocooned from the world. It soothed my raw nerves.
The moment I was discharged though, Life resumed its mission to have my soul or my sanity, preferably both, over the next month. After writing that semester’s exams, I ran away to Abuja for a week of serenity. On returning, I got hit with the news of my poor performance in the aforementioned exams. It hurt me badly because I know how much effort I put in (I took my textbooks with me to the ward!) and I felt betrayed by my body/brain and that tipped me over the knife edge I was balanced on back into depression. How depressed was I, you may be wondering? How depressed I am being directly proportional to the number of novels I mindlessly bury myself in, I read over 50 novels between June and July. I seldom left my house, hardly slept, rarely ate, lost time and generally fell into the vicious cycle of self-neglect that depression inspires.
Eventually, I got to the point where I was terrified of returning to school. Where would I begin? The course load I had missed looked like Zuma Rock. I decided to defer in a classic Proverbs 18:1 move. Some of you may already be cackling imaging my mother’s reaction. It wasn’t pretty, my dears. So I got my sorry ass into gear. I moved back to campus and tried to get my head in the game.
Lol jk. I moped around in my room for a month until my roommates threatened to report me to my mother,who would then have had to fly in from Abuja, again. All this makes me sound terribly irresponsible and honestly, I really was. I simply did not give half a shit about anything, least of all myself. Anything that is except the wrath and disappointment of Ìyá Ogedengbe. That said, I was ready to fail but then exams loomed around the corner and I simply can’t not write an examination, even if I write nonsense. I started trying to put in effort and informed my most understanding course advisor of my challenges.
By the time I was done writing the exams, I had a new lease on life and it was this: It’s only what you don’t begin that doesn’t end. “Is this me?” I thought, “that was asked to withdraw from Law in this same University of Lagos, now about to enter my final year in Psychology? Wawu.” Also, no longer having the pressure to perform, at least for a little while, took a load off my shoulders. It didn’t hurt that I recommenced my medication.
If this were a movie,you’d think this is where they’ll cue “Storm is Over”, no? Alas not, brethren. We proceeded to move to Abuja and let me tell you, un-boxing and re-boxing up your life is a TON of stress, although I didn’t feel it much, not then anyway. I was spending the time, in-between sending off loads of stuff by road, visiting friends and attending events. However on getting to Abuja, where I know few people, it hit me. I was restless, pacing, reckless, combative, craving attention and my mother was afraid to let me out of the house. Guys, I was having the beginnings of a manic episode! Is this life not a pot of beans? My brain was treating me like a yoyo; up today, down tomorrow.
I ran as fast as my little legs could carry me to the National Hospital, Abuja for treatment on the recommendation of my psychologist in Lagos. Having to bare my soul to yet another set of doctors was not fun, but people I believe one doesn’t lie (if you must lie at all) to your doctor, lawyer, therapist and mentor (spiritual or otherwise). That said, I’m mostly stable now. You may or may not have noticed me being more opinionated on the TL, if you follow me that is. It’ll pass. I’ll still be as opinionated, I just won’t tweet about it…
As for my education, the God I believe in is not a liar. I’m not doing brilliantly but considering all I’ve been going through and how much actual work I’ve been able to put in, I have not had a single carryover and my CGPA is passable. I’m waiting for ASUU and the government to come to an agreement (and speedily too) so I can put this chapter of my life behind me.
My mother apparently thinks I’m ready to adult as she has been assigning me more and more responsibilities. This of course fucking terrifies me, pardon the French. I cannot imagine being this topsy turvy in the Wicked Wild West that is Life but we do what? We move.
The best part of this year, by far, has to be the relationships I’ve managed to develop when not completely absorbed by the effort to not fall off the emotional rollercoaster that is my life. Those that I may have neglected, I’m sorry. I shall do better next year. That said, I’m apparently “ripe” now so maybe one of the relationships I work on next year will be romantic in nature. Wow, there’s been alot of Iing and Mying in this Review. I commend anyone that didn’t just skip to the end. I actually wrote down goals for this year and have only managed to accomplish the goal of not dying, really, and I can’t even take credit for that. So, while this year has had more low notes than high ones, I’m immensely grateful to God “for
Her His mercies endureth forever”. Until next time people, Peace and Rainbow Hued Dreams.